


Even Broom Closets Can Be Battlefields

by Garowyn



Category: Gintama
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garowyn/pseuds/Garowyn
Summary: While on the run from the Shinsengumi (again), Katsura ducks into Gintoki’s apartment to hide inside a broom closet – only to find that Sacchan is also hiding there, but for entirely wrong reasons. And both will soon discover that Gintoki’s broom closet is not big enough to comfortably house the two of them or their manzai act – or Hasegawa.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Even Broom Closets Can Be Battlefields

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I do not own Gintama.
> 
> When I was writing my multi-chapter Zura comedy fic, I really enjoyed writing Zura and Sacchan’s scenes. They have an interesting dynamic that could’ve been explored more in canon (one major regret – that with such a large cast, there should have been more interactions between all kinds of characters).
> 
> This fic is pure nonsense; relax and don’t take it too seriously.
> 
> Credit to Ace for the wig scene – thanks for your feedback and contribution!

One early afternoon found Katsura splitting off from Elizabeth in order to divide their pursuers, the Shinsengumi. It all started when—

_At this point, it is not entirely important to state the details of a long-running occurrence in which Katsura Kotaro often finds himself heavily pursued by the Shinsengumi for various reasons. It has been shown time and time again that they do not see eye to eye on most occasions. As the moon chases the sun, as a dog chases its tail, as Umibozu chases the last remaining microscopic hair on his head – so shall it be, the Shinsengumi chasing Katsura and Katsura chasing after the horizon of a brighter future, forevermore—at least, until he needs a rest._

“A very fine point, Narrator-san,” Katsura said, “I do need to rest for awhile.” He’d been running for blocks now, through narrow alleys and winding pathways, avoiding large gatherings of civilians and staying well ahead of even the fastest officer, which was usually Okita Sougo in his vain attempts to go down in history as The One Who Caught the Famed Runaway Koutarou and Kept Him Imprisoned for Longer than 72 Hours. They were getting close at 61 hours and 48 minutes and 39 seconds, which had been the longest Katsura had opted to stay in prison before shattering the government’s dreams in thinking they had at long last captured him for good. 

Fortunately for Katsura on this day, Okita’s bazooka had misfired – and this time it hadn’t been from Katsura’s doing – and the first unit captain was dealing with the fallout of that untimely incident. Only the smoking, charred uniforms of other Shinsengumi officers served as the incident’s only casualties - _and_ Hijikata Toushirou’s V-shaped bangs, now resembling a hyphen, as Katsura recalled before fleeing the scene. Hijikata was the main reason Okita had not immediately pursued Katsura, so only the slower officers had been on his heels up until minutes ago.

Now, a breathless and overheated Katsura found himself in a familiar neighbourhood, seeking shelter and rest before he regrouped with Elizabeth and their other comrades. While none of the passersby were familiar, the shops and buildings were – Snack Otose, in particular, along with the stairwell leading up to the Yorozuya business, which also doubled as Gintoki’s apartment. Katsura considered his options, wondering if he ought to take a chance on his stamina and hurry onward, or if he should take the chance to rest and wait until he could more freely and leisurely walk the streets.

Katsura mentally calculated the time it would take for the officers to catch up or figure out which way he had gone from three blocks back and around the corner. He then decided to take up temporary residence in Gintoki’s apartment. Gintoki wouldn’t mind, Katsura believed, marching up the stairwell. After all, who would refuse shelter for an old friend and comrade? Gintoki frequently declined invitations to join Katsura’s faction, but he knew Gintoki, griping and all, wouldn’t sell him out in the end.

Knocking on the door, Katsura waited a few seconds, casting furtive glances left and right down the streets. No sign of the officers yet, and no one else seemed to notice him at all.

When there was no answer, Katsura stepped inside, removed his sandals and excused himself, and then proceeded directly for the broom closet. Inside, there was a vertical, narrow space for the broom, mop, and three shelves, the middle being the largest and not stacked with too many cleaning products. Shoving some items aside, Katsura climbed in and shut the door. It _had_ occurred to him that he could simply wait in the common area, but only amateurs thought they would be safe enough just ducking inside an apartment without properly hiding themselves.

“I’m no amateur,” Katsura muttered to himself with a small, smug smile, “I’m Katsura.”

As expected, it was cramped inside, the small space forcing him to hug his knees close and lower his head at an uncomfortable angle. But he had hid in worse and smaller places. Gintoki had once hid inside a soup can with an infant, so Katsura couldn’t and wouldn’t complain. Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, a voice similar to Gintoki’s told him to stop bringing up obscure events from season one, but Katsura firmly reconstructed the fourth wall, so that there would be no further interruptions.

A dustpan handle dug into his side when he shifted closer to the back of the wall. Annoyed, Katsura reached back to move the dustpan away, twisting his body to the right.

“Hey, watch it!” a familiar woman’s voice hissed in his right ear, one solid fist jabbing into his ribs to push him back in the other direction.

“Ah, pardon me,” Katsura automatically responded in polite tones, “I thought I was the only one in here.” He paused and frowned. He _was_ the only one inside the closet, wasn’t he? There couldn’t be anyone else in here; there was simply no room for anyone else except for himself. Right?

Slowly, he turned his head to the right and looked into a pair of charcoal grey eyes framed by bright red glasses – or as bright as they could be in the murky light of the closet. He blinked. She blinked. He blinked again, and so did she. The eyelids’ subtle movement and general silence of their staring match reminded him of Elizabeth except Sarutobi Ayame didn’t communicate with placards. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” they finally demanded at the exact same second.

Katsura seized the opportunity to answer first. “Well, I think it is rather obvious as to why I am here.”

“No, it’s not,” Sarutobi replied, “It’s not obvious. It’s not even a _little_ obvious. What are you doing here inside Gin-san’s closet?” 

“I should ask you the same question,” Katsura said, “And I will. What, pray tell, are _you_ doing here inside Gintoki’s closet, Sacchan-dono?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s just Sacchan, you idiot? Answer my question first!”

“Not until you answer mine.”

Sarutobi clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Tch. We’re going to go in circles until one of us answers the other’s question.”

Katsura conceded that and aimed to take the higher road by replying, “I am here because many years ago, I envisioned a better future for this country—”

“That’s not what I’m asking!”

“But it _is_ a relevant part of why I am here,” Katsura insisted, “As you can imagine, there is an ongoing national uprising from patriots like myself. Unfortunately, not everyone shares my viewpoint, and sometimes we engage in jogging sessions in an attempt to work out our differences through healthy, physical expression.”

“The government dogs are chasing you again, aren’t they? What am I saying? Of course, they are.”

“Precisely,” Katsura agreed, “and that is why I am in this closet.”

“You’re saying a difference of political views is what led you to this closet?”

“More or less.” Katsura narrowed his eyes at her. “Now then, what are your reasons for sheltering in here? I highly doubt it has anything to do with politics.”

Sarutobi batted her eyelashes in a way that was probably meant to be seductive, judging by what he knew of her, but it only looked like she was trying to clear her eyes of dust particles. “You might say it has everything to do with politics. Basically defined, politics is all about two parties – Gin-san and I – engaged in a struggle for dominance and control…” 

She continued on to describe things that caused the blood to rise rapidly to his ears, and soon Katsura could bear no more. “Enough!”

“Aw, aren’t _you_ innocent.” 

“I’m not innocent, I’m Katsura.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Stalking is a disgraceful act,” Katsura admonished her, ignoring the question, “That is why you are here, is it not? If you were truly interested in winning over Gintoki’s affections, then you should pursue his heart in the openness of the common area instead of hiding in his closet.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s a friend of Gin-san’s and _also_ can’t sit on the couch and wait for him like a normal person instead of hiding in his closet.” 

“I already told you that I am here for political reasons whereas you are here for perverse reasons. Therefore, it is only logical that _you_ leave while _I_ remain behind,” Katsura said, defiant and determined to defend his right to hide inside Gintoki’s broom closet. “I do not need to see Gintoki at all. Leave now and reflect on your deviant actions, Sacchan-dono.”

“It’s just Sacchan – Sacchan, you idiot!” Sarutobi blew wisps of her bangs out in annoyance and shot him a glare. “Listen, it’s obvious neither of us is going to leave, at least not right now. I was only planning to be here for old time’s sake one last time because…”

“Yes?” Katsura prompted her, “Because what?”

In a rare, surprising moment of vulnerability he hadn’t expected from the fierce and deadly kunoichi, Sarutobi’s eyes lost their sheen and she looked away, jutting her chin out. “Because nothing. It’s nobody’s business,” she replied curtly. 

Katsura wondered if it had anything to do with Gintoki hanging out more often in Yoshiwara these days, but he didn’t press the subject further. It wasn’t his business, indeed, and maybe she needed the quiet space of a broom closet to ponder her next path in life. “Very well, then.” He resigned himself to the fact that they would be closet mates for a while longer.

They lapsed into an awkward silence, which gave Katsura the chance to adjust his position, various household cleaning items poking uncomfortably into his side. “Would you mind scooting over?” he grunted, “It is a bit cramped in here.”

“It’s more than a bit cramped,” Sarutobi replied, “I was coping all right with the tight space before you arrived, but now that you’re here, I’m rapidly running out of breathable air while packed tight like a can of smoked salmon. Between you and the stinky old man here—”

“It’s not stinky old man, it’s Katsura.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about _him.”_ Sarutobi jabbed a thumb to her right, and then her eyes locked onto his and widened, the both of them registering the same surprise and erupting into the same screams.

Hasegawa Taizou screamed as well, more so because of the kunai aimed at the middle of his brow. Sarutobi held him at bay with the weapon while Katsura clutched a dustpan to shield himself from any danger spawning from the sudden intrusion.

“What are you trying to do, kill me?” Hasegawa edged away from her, pressing his head against the other side of the closet. “Put that away! We all have to share this space and it’s not fair that I’m the only one without a weapon!”

“What are you doing here, Hasegawa-dono?” Katsura asked when he’d calmed his racing heart, lowering the dustpan. “You are as quiet as a ghost that I did not notice your presence at all – an admirable quality in an undercover agent.”

“I’m not an undercover agent!”

“You didn’t even make that annoying, wheezing in-and-out sound that I hear you make from time to time,” Sarutobi added.

“That’s called breathing!” Hasegawa sighed and explained, “I thought if I stay in here and never come out, no one will notice or care. Sure enough, it’s been three days, and no one has once asked each other, ‘Have you seen Hasegawa-san?’ Not a single person has wondered where I’ve gone off to or why I’ve disappeared. It’s as if I don’t exist or never did.”

“Three days!” Sarutobi made a gagging noise. “No wonder it stinks in here. And I thought it was this one here,” she added, giving Katsura a once-over glance with annoyance. 

“I bathe regularly,” Katsura said with a frown, affronted by the implication that he was responsible for the growing stench of sweat and various body odors comingling with the scents of strong cleaning products in this closet. “But people sweat when they are running for their lives.”

“So, you’re admitting that you’re partially responsible for the smell, then?” Sarutobi said, snickering. 

“I thought Shinpachi-kun might notice my absence or even my presence here, but he never looks long enough in this end here except to grab the multipurpose cleanser,” Hasegawa continued in a dismayed tone, “He didn’t even notice when I handed him the old rag he thought was missing. He just took it from my hands and slid the door shut. See? An old rag has more significance than I do!” 

“Of course, it does,” Sarutobi said, “An old, discarded rag still employs some use as a cleaning tool. You’re old and you’re discarded, yet you don’t have any sort of employment that still benefits others. You contribute nothing to society. The rag is more useful than you are.”

“Don’t say that! Even if it’s true!” Hasegawa cried, “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Nonsense!” Katsura protested, impassioned, “Do not listen to her, Hasegawa-dono. Even old, discarded rags are used until they are torn and unraveled and unable to labour any longer. As long as you are still breathing, you have the potential to contribute and push this country forward to greater heights. Rise above your raggedy status!”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better! You’re just agreeing in a roundabout way that I’m a dirty old rag!”

Before they could bicker further, they heard a voice call out, “Gin-san? Are you home?”

“Shinpachi-kun,” Katsura whispered, sliding the closet door open to reveal a sliver of light, allowing him to peer outside. His breath caught in his throat, as he saw Shinpachi enter the hallway and make for the closet. “He is coming here!”

Beside him, Sarutobi tensed up, as did Hasegawa, who gulped and then quietly wondered aloud why he had gulped in a nervous way when he wanted to be found. Katsura handed a sponge to Sarutobi, who stuffed it inside Hasegawa’s mouth to silence him. Permanently.

_Oi, why is the narration trying to kill me?!_

But they ignored Hasegawa’s loud telepathic thoughts and waited for Shinpachi to either change his mind about needing the closet or to open it and discover three people jam-packed inside for ridiculous reasons.

“Must be out,” Shinpachi said, as they heard him stop in front of the closet. “Oh, well. I’ll try to catch him later.”

Hasegawa passed out from lack of oxygen. His body slumped forward and his head bumped against the closet door.

“Huh? What was that?” Shinpachi said.

Sarutobi cursed softly, and Katsura readied himself for the inevitable, reaching within his sleeve for a makeshift disguise.

Sliding the closet door open just enough to reveal Katsura, Shinpachi’s eyes widened and he said, “Katsura-san—”

“It’s not Katsura, it’s Kido from Kabukichou Pest Control,” Katsura said, wearing a pair of novelty black frames with a moustachioed nose. “Your boss contacted me regarding a cockroach problem in your apartment?”

“He did? We do?” Shinpachi frowned and glanced from side to side. “I haven’t seen any lately—”

“They skitter away at the sound of loud voices, so it is important to remain quiet with a limited number of people on-site,” Katsura continued swiftly, “I have almost cornered the largest one of all in this closet. Please close the door and exit the premises immediately before I lose sight of the roach. Thank you.”

Shinpachi stared long and hard at Katsura.

A bead of sweat rolled down Katsura’s neck.

Finally, Shinpachi bowed and said, “Excuse me, Kido-san! I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll leave you to your work!” 

“It’s not Kido-san, it’s—”

Sarutobi slapped a hand across his mouth, her hands smelling faintly of natto and lavender.

Shinpachi slid the closet door shut, and a few seconds later, they heard the front doors slide shut as well. Once again, the apartment was engulfed in silence.

Removing her hand, Sarutobi blew a sigh of a relief and then glared at Katsura. “You idiot! How many episodes is it going to take until you finally figure out that the main reason you fail at espionage is that you can’t shut up about your name? Although I’ll give you credit for thinking fast.”

“Thinking fast is necessary for a strategist,” Katsura said in a proud voice. 

Hasegawa gasped and straightened up, banging his head against the back wall, knocking his sunglasses askew. “Am I dead? Do I have a job in the afterlife? Am I rich? Please tell me I’m rich!”

Katsura answered, “The riches of the afterlife are found in the knowledge that one has fulfilled one’s purpose in life, thus one’s spirit—”

“Shut up!” Hasegawa adjusted his glasses and bared his teeth at both of them. “Both of you tried to suffocate me! I want out of this closet now! I don’t care if I have to go back to a meaningless existence of nothingness. I don’t care if I’m a useless, dirty old rag. It’s better than being stuck in here with you two. I could’ve died!”

“You would not have died permanently, because this is a comedic story,” Katsura said calmly, “Whatever happens, you would only be temporarily dead and automatically revived in the next story unless you happen to die in a serious story. So have no fear. Die with honour.”

“I don’t _want_ to die, you moron! Temporarily or permanently!”

“I want to get out of here, too!” Sarutobi broke in, “It’s obvious Gin-san isn’t coming back, so I need to get out there and find out why he isn’t. And even if I don’t find out today, there are still better things to do with my time than spend it inside a closet with two idiots.”

“Humph. You think that I do not also have better things to do with my time?” Katsura said, temper rising, “Consider who has been here the longest. Hasegawa-dono has been here for three days. Sacchan-dono has been here for three hours. I have only been here for 30 minutes. Who is the real idiot?”

“ _None_ of us have better things to do with our time!” Hasegawa said, “Me, least of all, but you two – you’ve had more than enough time to get out of here. Most people wouldn’t climb into a closet inside a house that isn’t even theirs, much less stay in there for longer than a minute or five minutes if they’re playing hide-and-seek. But we’re not playing hide-and-seek! Unlike me, you two actually have jobs and some meaning to your lives, and yet you wasted time arguing inside a closet with a homeless rag instead of leaving right away. You two are the _biggest_ idiots here!”

Katsura considered Hasegawa’s rant for a long moment, and when he glanced at Sarutobi, he saw that she was also deep in thought before turning to him. “You know,” Katsura began, “There is some truth to what he is saying.”

“He does have a point,” Sarutobi agreed.

“Thank you,” Hasegawa said with a sigh.

“If we are going to play hide-and-seek, and then only one of us must stay inside this closet,” Katsura continued, “The other two have to leave and find different hiding spots.”

“You focused on the least important thing I said!” Hasegawa cried, “And we’re not even playing hide-and-seek!”

“Wait!” Sarutobi adjusted her glasses, which flashed with a spark of wit. “Sometimes it takes longer than five minutes for the seeker to find all of the hiders.”

“Ah, that is true,” Katsura affirmed with a nod.

“I give up! Let me out of here!” Hasegawa reached across to yank on the handle slot, but the door would not open. “Huh? Oh, no!”

Katsura tried the door and discovered the same problem. “It must have jammed stuck when Shinpachi-kun closed it.”

“You mean we’re trapped in here?” Sarutobi tried the door as well and met with the same result. “No! I’m going to lose Gin-san’s trail for sure now with all of these stupid delays!”

“And Elizabeth is waiting for me at the rendezvous point for my next orders,” Katsura said, voice growing high with worry, as he tried over and over to open the door. “Elizabeth!!”

“Move out of the way!” Hasegawa demanded, reaching for the door handle again, attempting to cross over Sarutobi in the process. “All it needs is a good strong jerk!”

“‘Jerk’ is right,” Sarutobi snapped, elbowing Hasegawa in his face, “Go back to the depths of the closet, you dust mite. If anyone’s getting out of here first, it’s me. I have a boyfriend, you know!”

“Imaginary boyfriends don’t count,” Hasegawa shot back, “I think you better change the prescription on your glasses, you natto-smelling stalker.”

“Says the idiot wearing sunglasses inside a dark closet!”

As their bickering continued, Katsura could feel the air growing hotter and stuffier, as he took deep, calming breaths, recalling that it was never good to panic in these situations. He had lived through a war, which was no easy feat for anyone. Gintoki’s closet was like hemmed-in ground; it demanded strategic thinking, and there was no better person to strategize within this closet than Katsura himself. As a shinobi, Sarutobi required a master; as a civilian, Hasegawa needed protection. Katsura decided right then and there that he would guide them all out of this broom closet battlefield.

“Silence!” Katsura cried, utilizing his stern military voice that usually caused comrades who were daydreaming, napping, or weeping to stand at attention. As expected, Sarutobi and Hasegawa instantly ceased their arguing and directed their attention to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “Calm yourselves and listen. I am going to get us out of here, and I will so by utilizing all of the tools at our disposal, including your own capabilities. From this second onward, think of me as your general.”

Sarutobi snorted. “You? Why do you get to be the general—”

“Sarutobi Ayame!” Katsura barked, handing her an extension cord, “You are going to take this rope and restrain all enemies that attempt to divide us and break our spirits.”

“Rope…restrain… _ooh_ , I like the way you think!” Sarutobi breathed, grinning and blushing just a little. She took the extension cord and clutched it to her chest, grin fading as she assumed a resolute countenance and spoke in a low tone, “Yes, Master. I will tightly restrain and eliminate all of our enemies.”

Katsura gave her a curt nod. “Good. Hasegawa Taizou!” Katsura held out another important item. “Take this flashlight and light our way – so that we may see what lies ahead and not lose hope in the darkness.” 

Hasegawa grabbed the flashlight and clicked it on, illuminating the closet and all their faces, including the tears streaming down his face. “Yes, Boss! I’m honoured to be of use again!”

Katsura smiled at him, as a wise old veteran to an eager young recruit. “You are no longer a discarded rag, but a torch of strength. Now…” Katsura picked up a broom and brought it to his front, holding it like he would a sword. “Take courage, my comrades, and heed my words. It may seem like we are trapped, but we are only halted! It may seem like an endless night, but there is a new day ahead!” 

“Yes!” Sarutobi and Hasegawa cheered, “Yes, General!”

Katsura grinned to himself, feeling the excitement of battle stirring in his blood. “They do not call me Hideaway Kotarou for nothing. I will forge us a path to victory! I will break us free of this prison closet! And we shall emerge into the brightness of the sun! Are you with me?”

“We are with you to the end!” they chimed together.

“This is just like the Battle of the Merciless Gorges,” Katsura murmured, losing himself within a war memory, “The enemy had forced us into tricky terrain. Many soldiers were losing hope just as you nearly did, faced with a wall of overwhelming fear – so much that we crashed boulders into the narrowest throat of the passage, hindering our enemy’s path but also preventing soldiers from giving into madness and turning back. We marched on ahead, all of us…” Katsura yawned. “Yes, all of us… Gintoki… Sakamoto… Takasugi… Kuro…something…” His eyelids drooped. The warm air of this cramped closet suddenly made him sleepy and yet safe, so much that it made him wonder if this is what it felt like to be in his mother’s womb. “We pushed through the corridor…and fought on in darkness…and emerged into the light with a cry…”

* * *

The next thing Katsura became aware of was a weight on his right shoulder and a loud snore with a bit of a whistle to it. Katsura opened his eyes to the dimness of the closet and realized he had fallen asleep, somehow. It was the only explanation for why he was still inside Gintoki’s broom closet unless he was having a dream about being inside Gintoki’s broom closet again. 

Checking his surroundings, Katsura saw that Hasegawa was the source of the snoring, the older man leaning against the back wall in an apparent deep sleep.

Sensing movement against his shoulder again, Katsura looked down and found himself nose to the top of a head of pale violet hair. 

“ _Mm_ , General…tie me up tighter,” Sarutobi mumbled into his shoulder’s sleeve, drool seeping out of her mouth. Then, she giggled and added, “Oh, that was the worst insult yet, you sadistic _brute!_ ”

Katsura recoiled in shock, shrugging her off. “Sacchan-dono! Wake up! Wake up this instant!”

Sarutobi murmured something incoherent and lifted her head, reaching up to rub at her eyes beneath her glasses with a yawn. “What a dream…and a nice nap, I—” Then she took one look at Katsura and the confines of their space and then gave a small shriek of displeasure. “Are you trying to steal me away from Gin-san by pretending to be a third wheel gentleman offering his shoulder for a nap after finding out how much you desire the super attractive heroine?”

“You are not the heroine, Leader is,” Katsura replied, frowning, “As for the rest of your illogical babble, attraction is out of the question. Why, you are not even married.”

“Being married is a _turn-on_ for you??”

Hasegawa snorted himself awake and looked at them, sunglasses askew on his nose. “Huh?” Then, realization flooded his eyes and he bolted upright. “Why are we still in this damn closet? I thought you were going to get us out of here! I was all ready to break out of here when I fell asleep instead, listening to your stupid story about rocks and some side character I can’t remember!”

Katsura barely heard him, still facing off with Sarutobi, who was going on and on about how it was impossible for him to resist a gorgeous woman like her, that an _M_ was always in need of an _S,_ and so forth.

“Enough with your bawdy propaganda,” Katsura commanded, holding out a hand to her, palm outward. “The only savoury proportions I am interested in are the way the noodles remain firm but tender in the broth of Ikumatsu-dono’s shoyu ramen!”

"What the hell does that even mean?" Hasegawa said, shaking his head.

Sarutobi stared at Katsura, something gleaming in her eyes. “I don’t know what it is…maybe it’s because I’m starting to go insane the longer we stay inside this closet…but the more you say you don’t want me, the more…the more I… _oh!_ ” She leaned forward, staring him straight in the eyes. “Say I’m unattractive again! Tell me how much you don’t want me! Punish me with your cruel, callous words!! Go on! _Say it!!_ ”

“I have _nothing_ more to say to you,” Katsura said, crossly.

“ _Yes_ , that voice! So harsh and commanding!” Sarutobi paused and drew back, crossing her arms except, resting her chin on her fingertips. “You know, we just might be able to work around your boring and unexciting teacher looks. We’ll have to improvise if we’re going to be stuck in here until we die.” She looked around and then grinned, snatching up a mop and detaching the head. Positioning the makeshift white-locked wig on top of Katsura’s head, Sarutobi clapped her hands. “Yes! This works! You look just like Gin-san except your eyes need to be more fish-like with a jaded view of the world. You’re deadpan in all the wrong ways. It should be a sexy kind of deadpan!”

“It’s not sexy, it’s Katsuraaaaa!!” Katsura cried with a reddened face, scowling and yanking the mop top off. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!” Hasegawa yelled over the other two, banging against the door with his fists. “I want out of here now!”

The three of them continued arguing.

Sadaharu opened the closet door.

Instantly, the three closet mates clamped up, plunged into silence. They stared at Sadaharu with wide, unblinking eyes; Sadaharu stared back at them with equally wide, unblinking eyes. The large dog sat down in front of the closet, tail flicking side to side with apparent interest in the three of them.

Katsura was the first to breathe a sigh of relief, smiling and reaching out to fluff Sadaharu’s fur around his face. “Our deliverance comes in the form of a fine, furry hero,” Katsura remarked, stepping out of the closet.

Sarutobi followed suit, sighing heavily, adjusting her glasses. “Finally! A dog is more useful than these idiots.”

Hasegawa jumped out and grinned at Sadaharu. “You’re welcome to share my cardboard bed any time—”

Sadaharu opened his mouth and chomped down on all three of their heads. 

* * *

After escaping Sadaharu’s jaws, enduring Shinpachi’s lecture, listening to Kagura’s mocking laughter, and collectively getting the boot from Gintoki for overstaying their uninvited welcome, Katsura, Sarutobi, and Hasegawa parted ways from the Yorozuya office. They walked off in different directions, each contemplating their future paths as a result of their broom closet intermission from life.

Sarutobi decided it was high time she reconsidered her stalking habits after she nearly threw herself at a man who was neither sadistic nor masochistic but utterly moronic in his unorthodox preferences. There was also the fact that he had chosen a bowl of ramen over her superior attractive qualities. She went off in search of Zenzou and Tsukuyo in order to dish out her complaints about Katsura.

Hasegawa gained a greater appreciation for life in the outdoors after his claustrophobic experience, and took to heart Katsura’s words that Hasegawa was not a dirty, discarded old rag, but rather a rag who would give his all into whatever he did until the last thread crumbled into dust and returned to the earth. Or until he became rich through pachinko, whichever came first.

Katsura reunited with Elizabeth and told her all about how he had waged war for nearly two hours against the solitary confines of a broom closet designed for psychological torture. Having emerged victorious without selling out crucial information about his comrades or his faction’s plans served only to strengthen his will to carry on toward a glorious new future. 

“The most important lesson learned from this experience,” Katsura told Elizabeth over a bowl of ramen at Ikumatsu’s shop that evening, “is to never give up and to do your best work with unlikely comrades.” He paused, and then added, “Also, remember to first check if anyone else is hiding inside the broom closet – in which case it is better to choose another hiding spot.”

Elizabeth’s sign read: _You didn’t learn anything at all._

Katsura slurped up a mouthful of noodles and smiled. “A most excellent meal, Ikumatsu-dono.” 


End file.
